


Only Slightly Less

by MagicalDragon



Category: Degrassi, Degrassi the Next Generation, Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Siblings, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5931538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalDragon/pseuds/MagicalDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting starts a rekindling of friendships lost in the great tornado. But the storm has yet to pass. </p><p>UA starting between episode 5 and 6 of Next Class Season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was afternoon and the next class was chemistry, where Miles was hopelessly behind after all the skipping he’d done to avoid Tristan, his lab partner, last year – and the general skipping he’d done in most of his classes this year. In short, there was no way he was going to that chemistry class. He was still high, but, in his opinion, not enough so. He’d run out of the pills he kept in his pen though; he needed to find Esme. Skipping without Esme might have been a bit boring anyway, but skipping without Esme _and_ on his way down from a high? Didn’t sound that appealing.

When he turned a corner, he didn’t find himself face to face with Esme though; he had been about to walk into one Maya Matlin.

“Maya!” Miles said. “Well isn’t this my lucky day!”

Maya rolled her eyes, looked up at him and did a double take.

“Miles…?” She said. “Are you… Are you high?!” Her voice went shrill, but she was smart enough to lower it.

Miles just laughed, which seemed to be all the confirmation Maya needed. She looked into his eyes searchingly, but he just looked away. Then she took his arm and led him outside. He let her.

“Please tell me what’s going on?” She said, after they’d sat down at one of the benches outside.

“What’s going on…” Miles chuckled. “What’s going on is that I need more pills or I’ll stop being high soon, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Maya just stared at him with a frown, shaking her head in disbelief, or maybe in disapproval. Probably the latter.

“Why?” Was all she responded and Miles sobered a bit.

“My mom’s taking my dad back,” he said, actually reasonably serious in tone and expression.

Maya stared at him. He didn’t look at her.

“Oh,” was all she said.

 

It was almost a week before he talked to Maya again. She walked up to him while he was standing at his locker, trying to figure out what he’d come here for.

”Hey, do you want to hang out at my house tonight?” She asked him. “My mom’s out and Zig has other plans, so I thought we could just hang out… Winston and Tristan will be there as well.”

Miles considered her for a moment, through a light haze of whatever drugs Esme had offered him. A part of him wanted to just decline and use the afternoon-evening-night getting high with Esme again, but… He missed Maya. He missed Winston. Some part of him even missed Tristan, if he was being honest with himself – the rest of him was still furious about the election though.

“No thank _you_ ,” he said with a grin that had nothing to do with happiness and shut his locker, satisfied that he wouldn’t be able to remember what he’d meant to get. “Really not in the mood for Tristan’s bullshit.”

“Come on,” Maya pleaded. “I promise I’ll whack him over the head if he’s being an ass again, okay?”

Miles stilled and slowly turned to look Maya in the eyes.

“This isn’t another intervention, is it?” He said, his tone dangerous.

“Inter…? No, not at all!” Maya looked genuinely confused and it dawned on Miles that she hadn’t been involved in that whole thing last time. Didn’t mean that wasn’t what she was trying to do now, though.

“You sure?” He asked and Maya nodded vehemently.

“We just want to chill together, like we used to…”

Miles couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that washed over him at those words. Maybe if he’d had no drugs jumping around in him, he could have, but as it was he was overwhelmed with the thought of things going back to how they’d been during his first time at Degrassi, and he found himself agreeing to Maya’s offer in a sort of absent way that was nevertheless genuine.

Maya was saying something…

“…really can’t be high though,” Maya said. She was looking at her hands. “My mom’s going to get home in the evening, and if she sees you like that she’ll think we were all getting high…”

Maya looked up. “Please, Miles?”

 

He almost didn’t show up at Maya’s house. And when he did, he _was_ a bit high, but not noticeably so, so he figured it’d be fine. Honestly, the fact that he wasn’t higher was a miracle. Esme had kept offering him pills throughout the day, and he’d kept taking them. When he finally remembered his promise to Maya during last period, he hurried to the bathroom to throw up half of them up. He’d just left school after that.

He didn’t want to go home on the off chance that his dad would be there, so he drove around mindlessly, bought and ate some ice cream, flirted with some guy who got mad at him because he “wasn’t gay!”, then drove around even more and almost took one of the pills Esme had given him but remembered his plans with Maya just before he could swallow it, only to check the time and find that he was going to be late no matter what he did.

Now he was sitting on Maya’s couch next to Winston, staring at his hands as the awkward silence stretched on. He dared a discreet look around. Maya was looking at a bit of a loss, looking between them as if a magic way to make the awkward go away would appear. Tristan was staring at his nails with a grimace on his face – clearly as pleased about his presence as Miles was. Winston had a look on his face generally preserved for lying or flirting attempts; the one that Miles knew to mean he was desperately thinking of something to say. Maybe this had been a mistake.

“Well, Maya!” he heard himself say, clasping his hands together. “Have anything planned for this merry evening of no parental supervision?”

Maya met his eyes and opened her mouth slightly. A few moments passed before she said: “Well, I have some board games…”

“I love board games!” Winston exclaimed, having found something to say.

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Really, Maya?”

Maya shrugged and Tristan finally turned to look at Miles.

“She called us all here because she’s worried about you, okay?”

“Tristan!” Maya glared at him.

“Oh, so it is an intervention?” Miles said, smiling to himself and shaking his head. “Great.”

He was contemplating just getting up and leaving immediately. What a fool he’d been to come here thinking they actually liked him and wanted to spend time with him, when it was clear not one of them was here for any other reason that a feeling of obligation and guilt. Esme really was the only one who cared.

“I promise it’s not!” Maya turned her eyes on him, and wow, there really was no-one who could look quite as earnest as Maya.

He sighed. “Look, I’m fine, okay? I thought you were over the whole “worrying about me” thing…”

“Dude, you’re not fine,” Winston said and Miles rolled his eyes.

“I was!” Maya said. “Until... all of this. Your dad coming back, being high at school…”

Miles just chuckled humorlessly and refused to look at her. Man he wanted to leave. He wondered why he hadn’t yet.

“Okay, I get that you think all of this,” he gestured around him, mentally kicking himself to just _stop_ , but as always, it was ineffective, “would help, normal hanging out with friends, some kind of stability away from my family or whatever… but what I don’t get is why you think _him_ ,” he nodded towards Tristan, “being here would do anyone any good.”

“Agreed,” Tristan said, glaring at him.

“You two were really close just six months ago!” Maya said, looking between them.

“Yeah, and me and my dad were really close when I was five. Doesn’t mean shit now,” Miles heard himself saying.

“Dude...” Winston said, but his utterance was drowned out by Tristan: “I can’t believe you’d compare me to your dad. Wow, Miles. Wow.”

“And why not, huh?” Miles said with a smile. “You’re both biphobic fucks.”

“I’m gay, Miles,” Tristan said, clearly exasperated.

“Never said you were homophobic.”

“Is this about the debate? What I said was true; you always said you were confused, I’ve literally never heard you call yourself bi.”

Miles was laughing. “Give a guy some time to figure this stuff out, will you?”

“You did say some kind of terrible things, Tristan,” Maya said.

Miles stopped laughing just to look at her in surprise.

“Okay, whatever, it was wrong, yadda yadda,” Tristan said gesticulating wildly. “Now can we move on from you blaming your problems on me, because _I’m_ clearly _not_ the problem, mr. daddy issues here just can’t get over that his dad isn’t as perfect as the rest of his life.”

At that Miles stood up and started walking towards the door. He knew coming here had been a bad idea; he couldn’t fathom why doing so without fucking up had been so important to him. Maya was walking after him, saying his name repeatedly, but it wasn’t till he heard Winston’s voice he stopped in his tracks.

“What the hell, Tristan?” He heard him say, almost yell. “Don’t you know what his dad is like?!”

“I was his boyfriend, Winston, I think I know,” Tristan said, much, much calmer.

“You clearly don’t!” Winston was definitely yelling now. “Maybe if you’d actually paid attention when you two were together, you’d know, but as it is, you clearly don’t if you think saying something like that is even remotely okay!”

It’d been a very long time since anyone had stood up for Miles like that, and it was… strange to hear it from Winston, who was usually so quick to point out when Miles was making a mistake. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, they’d been friends for a long time, after all, but it was equally odd every time.

No wait, actually, it might be even weirder this time because of how hard he’d been trying to push Winston away… Miles could hardly believe that Winston still cared about him after all of that.

Whether what Winston was saying was true was another matter though… Miles wasn’t sure he could blame Tristan for his own inability to confide in others.

“Wow, _I_ wasn’t the problem in our relationship!” Tristan protested. “Maybe I wasn’t the best boyfriend, but he was a _shit_ boyfriend.”

That much was true, Miles mused. He’d gotten very upset with Tristan over the intervention and had a hard time setting it aside, but as soon as he had…. Miles had still liked Tristan – whether romantically or not, he couldn’t say, but he’d still liked him in some capacity. The intervention had been prove Tristan cared, Miles had just felt too humiliated to see that. Before the election, that had been the only reason Miles had to dislike Tristan, and it had been a misunderstanding more than anything. He supposed he could dislike Tristan for what he’d said afterwards, but he wasn’t sure if it hadn’t all been true, anyway.

“Look, if Miles didn’t tell you enough about his dad to make you understand why he’s fucked up – and yes, I know he is, I know he’s difficult to be close to, I’ve been his best friend since we were _five_ – then you were a shit boyfriend as well!”

Miles found himself back in the living room with Maya at his side. He was staring at Tristan and Winston, who had both gotten up from where they’d been seated and had been staring each other down until he stepped into the room. They both stared at him. Winston looked flushed the way he tended to do after an angry outburst, but his expression turned sheepish as he met Miles’ eyes. He couldn’t read Tristan’s expression.

“Tell me now, then,” Tristain said, calm, but his voice sharp.

Miles scoffed and looked away from Tristan. He shook his head and gesticulated vaguely. “I didn’t come here to be interrogated.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and sat down. “How is it my fault for not knowing when he would never talk to me about it?”

Miles sank something. Tristan was right. As always, Miles was at fault for fucking it all up. Tristan’s asshole behavior lately had no bearing on that. Like Winston said, he always did hurt the people he cared about… and yet. Miles laughed as he sat down.

“Remember when…” Miles smiled at the floor. “After that article came out, when you called me manipulative?”

Tristan nodded, his frown softening a bit.

“Well, _he’d_ just spent the whole day manipulating me to benefit his _stupid_ campaign and ended it all with shoving me into a wall, so it _kind of_ sucked when you called me manipulative and wouldn’t talk to me.”

A few moments passed in complete silence. Maya was gaping at him. Tristan was looking torn, like he couldn’t decide if he was feeling apologetic or defensive. Winston didn’t look surprised, merely sad, though Miles wasn’t sure if someone who didn’t know him as well as Miles did would have been able to tell.

Tristan finally broke the silence: “Why didn’t you tell me later? After we made up?”

Miles shrugged. “Didn’t seem to matter,” he said.

“How could that not matter?!” Maya demanded.

“I don’t know, Maya, okay?” Miles said. “It’s like… as soon as something is over, or I calm down, it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. It doesn’t feel like anything. I don’t know. I just hate ripping up in something that’s done.”

“It wasn’t done Miles, you were living with him for months after that!” Maya said. “We could have done something!”

Miles laughed in her face.

“Oh yeah? What would you have been able to do, Maya?”

That shut Maya up; she frowned in contemplation and looked at him helplessly for a few moments.

“I… Well… you should have told someone!

“Why? It’s not like my family would have had my back anyway, later when I told my mom he hit me, she asked what I’d done to provoke him.”

“He hit you too?!” Maya exclaimed, her voice going shrill. Now Tristan was the one gaping.

Miles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he’s a grade A asshole, okay? This is not news.” He laughed. “I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack every time I see him, unless I’m on something, like why did you guys think I’m on all of these pills, anyway?!”

Everyone was quiet for a long while after that outburst. No-one really seemed to know what to say or do. It was driving Miles crazy – crazier than he already was, anyway. He was being a burden to people who barely cared about him, forcing them into some kind of obligatory pity fest when he didn’t even want their pity anyway. Yet again, he contemplated leaving, but then someone sad down next to him. He looked up and his eyes widened a bit. Tristan. The last person he would have expected.

Tristan made an awkward expression that seemed to convey both a sense of apology and ironic distance from what he was doing. The he laid an arm around Miles, slowly brushing his hand up and down his back and Miles relaxed into his hold. He noticed someone on his other side, and found himself looking into Winston’s face. He was currently pulling the awkward expression he tended to pull whenever they were affectionate with each other, and without thinking further about it Miles put his head down on Winston’s shoulder. Miles hadn’t felt this calm without the help of pills for months, and he hadn’t felt this…. _warm_ since before he and Tristan broke up. He was reminded of boarding school before… before he’d fucked that up too.

It was a long while before any of them moved or said something, Miles couldn’t say how long. Then Maya, who had cuddled up next to Tristan, broke the spell.

“How about that board game, then?” She asked and all of them chuckled in response as they began disentangling themselves from each other.

 

When Maya’s mom got home, they were still sitting in the living room. The board game had been abandoned for idle talk, from Winston trying to convince Miles to go see some superhero movie with him – “I’m pretty sure you’ll like it. Deadpool is a really comedic take on the whole thing. Oh and he’s pansexual, which is basically the same as bi, right?” – to Tristan complaining about his duties as school president, to Maya letting out some air about sexist assholes at her concerts. It was… nice. Relaxing. Miles felt like himself again for the first time in months. He hardly noticed how Maya took a bit longer greeting her mother than seemed necessary until she got back.

“My mom wants us to wrap up soon,” she said and the others agreed easily.

As they started putting the board game back and getting their things, Maya locked eyes with Miles.

“Can I talk to you privately for a moment?” She asked, and though his chest clenched with anxiety he just nodded.

She led him to the kitchen, but he had to prompt her before she’d say whatever she’d brought him here to say.

“Don’t be mad, but I told my mom,” she admitted.

Miles clenched his teeth slightly.

“I convinced her to let you borrow Zig’s old room whenever you want…”

Miles clenched his teeth further at the mention of Zig, but then what Maya was offering started to dawn on him. That… might not be an entirely horrible prospect. If he could avoid fucking it up, that was. But after tonight… After tonight, that actually seemed somewhat doable.

“I just want you to have that option,” she ended meekly.

Miles didn’t look at her. He felt a bit humiliated, pitied, and he didn’t like that one bit, nor did he like the thought of Maya offering him something Zig had had first, but… He had to admit, having somewhere to go that wasn’t out in the town to get high with Esme… it sounded nice. Not that getting high with Esme didn’t sound nice too, because it definitely still did, but…

“Thank you,” was all Miles said.

He met Maya’s eyes quickly before he turned around and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't actually dislike Tristan. Do I think he can be an ass? Definitely, and that's what's happening here. But I won't be villainising him. 
> 
> This story will probably run for around 10 chapters. Maybe? That's my current estimate. Don't hold me to it. You can find me on tumblr [here](http://iplayforallteams.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title from The Smiths' _Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before:_
> 
>  
> 
> _Nothing's changed_  
>  _I still love you, oh, I still love you_  
>  _Only slightly, only slightly less_  
>  _Than I used to, my love_


	2. Chapter 2

“Where were you yesterday?” Esme asked when he sat down next to her in English class, a tired look about her, very unlike her usual self. It hit Miles that Esme had been the one with the pills in the first place, so he clearly wasn’t the only one going through something. Typical of him to think so, of course; typical Hollingsworth selfishness.

But then he supposed being selfish wasn’t the worst thing one could be, when it came down to it. Being selfish didn’t mean you didn’t care about others, though it certainly had for his dad.

“With some friends,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t text you. 

“I didn’t know you had “friends”,” she said sullenly and Miles could tell it was supposed to sting.

“Hey!” Winston said from behind them.

“Come on, Esme,” Miles said, going for some kind of _fun_ tone, though he was unsure if he managed it. “Don’t be like that; we’ll hang out today, okay?”

“We better,” she said with grumpiness that, thankfully, seemed halfway faked. “You definitely owe me.”

Miles laughed; Winston shot a look between the two of them and rolled his eyes. Then the class started.

 

Miles vaguely remembered talking to Hunter before leaving school, but he couldn’t recall the specifics and the rest of the day was one big blur. He remembered being with Esme and then briefly not being with Esme and then being with her again and he thought he remembered some semi-public making out, but he had no clue as to how far they’d gone. He finally started coming down from his high around 2 am, at which point he and Esme went their separate ways, as they lived in different parts of the city. They said goodbye with a kiss and a laugh and a promise of more nights like this but Miles wondered if they both left with the feeling that it all was for nothing when tomorrow wouldn’t be better for their cheer this night.

Miles didn’t think to check his phone till he’d gotten home, but when he’d gotten to his room and was sitting on his bed trying to find some part of him that cared enough to start getting ready for bed, he checked it and found he’d gotten several messages.

Maya had written him saying:

_your brother said some really awful things today :( I think you need to talk to him_

Miles frowned at the screen, wondering why Maya and Hunter would have talked at all. Then he opened a messaged from Tristan.

_We closed Hunter’s club & he was prty upset… just thought you should know…_

Then he’d gotten some judgy texts from Winston about his whereabouts and one from Frankie warning him that their mom was mad he wasn’t home yet. He just rolled his eyes at those and started getting undressed. So that was what he had to look forward to, a lecture from his mom and playing dad for his brother… _great_.

 

After far too little sleep and, as he had predicted, a lecture from his mom, Miles really wasn’t in the right state of mind to be talking to Hunter, but… Hunter was his brother. He ought to. He didn’t get the chance until they were on their way to Miles’ car, but Miles hurried up and jumped into it.

“So,” he said as he put an arm over Hunter’s shoulder, earning a disgruntled reaction from him. “I hear they shot down the gaming club?”

Hunter sneered and roughly threw Miles’ arm off.

“What do you care?” He hissed. “You think it’s stupid anyway.”

“Hey, I asked, didn’t I?” Miles said and looked back at Frankie to get her to back him up, but Frankie seemed to be somewhere else entirely. He turned back to Hunter, only to find him several steps ahead of him. “Why did they close you down? I thought it was going so well?”

“That idiot Goldi and your bitch of an ex-girlfriend said all kinds of ridiculous things about the game and then the club just got shut down!” Hunter exclaimed.

Miles just looked at him, speechless. Hunter being angry was hardly shocking, nor would he have found the language use shocking from someone else, but the two put together… when had Hunter gotten like this? Hadn’t most of his closest relationships been with girls? With Frankie when they were small, with Arlene last year and with Yael now? But he supposed that didn’t have to count for much.

“Okay, calm down, it’s-” Miles started, which, looking back , was not actually a good way to start at all, but then Miles had only gotten around 3 hours of sleep, so he supposed he could cut himself some slack. Hunter couldn’t.

“You don’t get it, do you?!” Hunter yelled and in his head Miles agreed that no, he _really_ didn’t. “We just want to compete, to do the thing _we’re_ good at, and they shut us down because they don’t understand anything about games! Just because it’s not football or whatever they act like they can just walk all over us!”

“Okay, okay,” Miles said, putting a hand on each of Hunter’s shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. “What if I try talking to Tristan or something, huh?”

He immediately regretting getting himself into this, but he had to say something; Hunter was looking scarily worked up about the whole thing.

“Get off of me!” Hunter exclaimed and moved out of Miles’ grip. “I have it under control.”

Miles stopped in his tracks and sighed as he watched Hunter walk off to the car with quick, angry steps. He was way too sleep deprived for this kind of bullshit.

“Give it up,” Frankie said and stopped beside him. “He’s been angry about it since yesterday, and you’re not exactly good at making him _not_ angry.”

Miles made a face that conveyed a kind of disgruntled agreement.

“I’m sure he just needs some time to get over it,” Frankie added.

They stood there in silence for a few moments. Hunter was already sitting in the car.

“Come on,” Frankie said and started walking. “We’re going to be late at this rate.”

“Yeah,” Miles said without moving.

He’d promised to try to take dad’s place in Hunter’s life… to be there for him… what had happened to that? He supposed that with their dad back in their lives – he felt a weight on his chest and a knot in his stomach _and **god**_ _he needed to get high_ – there was less of a need for it but… It was still sad to think he’d failed his brother, too.

 

After school he found himself waiting outside the student council’s room for Tristan to wrap up whatever it was that he was doing, since _of course_ the one day he did want to speak to Tristan, they had no classes together. While he assumed they would be on better terms after hanging out at Maya’s, he didn’t really feel sure about it… about Tristan, about how he felt about Miles… or, if he was being honest, how Miles himself felt about Tristan.

He’d done his best though. He’d made sure he was calm and collected and all that crap, he’d sneaked in a nap in history class when they’d watched a movie, and while he was on pills, they were only enough to soften the dull anxiety in his breast and the tension in his bones, not enough for him to be high. Not really, anyway.

Esme had been a bit ticked when he’d avoided getting high with her, and even more so when he wouldn’t ditch with her. He’d said he’d meet up with her later, but she’d just said something biting then walked off, leaving him feeling shit enough to take a pill despite it all.

He wasn’t _high-_ high though. And he was feeling okay. Ready to do this maturely. Hopefully.

It took another 8 minutes of playing games on his phone and then an extra 3 checking all his social media apps before two girls walked past Miles on their way out of the student council room. He quickly put away his phone and looked into the room where he saw Tristan gathering his things. Miles walked in and that in and of itself was enough to alert Tristan to his presence. Tristan looked over his shoulder and when his eyes met Miles’, they looked a bit wide; pretty as ever, though.

“Miles, what…” Tristan trailed off.

“I need to talk to you,” Miles said and continued walking towards Tristan, who for his part looked a bit uncomfortable until Miles clarified. “About Hunter. Hunter and that gaming club.”

“Oh,” he said in a way that really made Miles wonder what Tristan had thought Miles was here for.

“Well, that’s…” Tristan regained his composure. “That’s closed Miles. The PTA and Simpson have weighed in on it too, there’s not much I can do at this point.”

Miles swore under his breath and sat down on the nearest table with a sigh. He already felt defeated. “Why was it closed?” He asked after a moment.

“Hunter didn’t tell you?” Tristan asked.

“I tried to talk to him about it but… Hunter’s not big on the whole _sharing_ thing.”

“Well, the feminist club had some complains, and Hunter wasn’t exactly good at convincing them that their club _isn’t_ misogynistic,” Tristan explained in a gentler tone than Miles would have expected Tristan to take with him, and sat down next to Miles.

“Or racist, for that matter,” Tristan added after a pause.

Miles turned his head to meet Tristan’s eyes. He furrowed his brows.

“He said some pretty gross stuff to Goldi….” Tristan said and trailed off, only continuing when Miles kept looking at him. “Like, about her scarf and terrorism?”

“Okay, wow,” Miles laughed humorlessly and looked away. “Fuck’s sake, Hunter.”

“Yeah…” Tristan trailed off again. “Look, I know you’re trying to be a good brother, but Hunter is genuinely in the wrong. I won’t be doing him any favors any time soon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand, I just…” Miles rubbed his hand on his forehead and the slit his fingers through his hair, feeling even more tired than he had this morning. He sighed.

“I don’t know when he got this angry. Or when I stopped knowing him. Or why I…”

His voice was coming out weird and he stopped himself abruptly. He wasn’t even sure how he’d meant to finish that. _Why he didn’t know Hunter anymore? Why he hadn’t been there for him? Why he never paid attention to the things his brother cared about?_

“He called Maya a bitch this morning,” he confided, though he was unsure why.

Tristan grimaced.

“At least he didn’t say it to her face, I guess…”

Miles laughed.

“Dude, you don’t have to defend him. He’s not your brother,” he said and Tristan smiled ruefully. 

 

“What do you want?” Hunter asked, barely looking up from his screen, as Miles entered his room. He was playing a game – notably not _Runesayer Kingdom_ , but instead some kind of single player shooter by the looks of it.

“So I talked to Tristan…” Miles began and sat down on Hunter’s bed. Hunter still wasn’t looking at him, he hadn’t even paused the game. Miles looked at him picking up ammo and shooting guards for a few moments before he continued. “I hear you said some pretty rude things to Goldi. What was that about, huh?

Hunter scoffed as he shot another guard. “Who are you, mom?”

Miles rolled his eyes and sighed. “Look, I’m just worried about you man,” he said.

“Why don’t you worry about yourself first?” was all Hunter said to that.

Miles got up and left his brother’s room, slamming with the door as he left.  

“Rome wasn’t built in one day, you know.”

Miles looked up from his laptop and found Frankie standing in his bedroom door. He gave her uncomprehending look and she rolled her eyes the way only a 15 year old confronted with a thick relative could.

“I know you tried to talk to Hunter,” she said and sat down on his bed, as he had sat on Hunter’s. “And… that matters, you know?” She continued. “That you tried.”

Miles opened his mouth, the closed it firmly. He made a face.

“Would have mattered more if we’d, you know, _actually talked_ ,” he finally said.

Frankie shrugged helplessly and made a face that seemed to say _it’s Hunter_. He made a similar expression, and they just looked at each other for a few moments until Frankie scoffed.

“Who cares about stupid Hunter, anyway?” She said and crawled up next to Miles. “Let him be angry if he wants to.”

She snuggled in to Miles and he smiled. He was more surprised than he would ever admit that Frankie cared enough about him, after everything, to try to cheer him up. He was looking at her, still smiling in a quiet way that was rare these days, when she asked:

“You’re writing again?”

He hurriedly minimized his document.

“Hey, I was reading it!” Frankie complained.

“You can read it when it’s ready for editing,” Miles said and put an arm around his sister. Frankie pouted, but he just shook his head. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you instead, huh? Because I must admit, I have no idea.”

Frankie made a face and cuddle up to him more closely.

“You haven’t really cared to know…” she said, and it hurt because it was true; Miles hadn’t just been a sucky brother to Hunter, but to his sister too..

“I’m sorry,” he said, and those words rang in the silence for an entire minute before Frankie spoke.

“I just feel so… lost,” she admitted.

“What, not because of Winston, right?” he asked. All the answer he got was a vague shrug.

He quietly let out a breath, satisfied that at least this wasn’t _all_ about Winston. His little sister and his best friend being together had been weird enough; reassuring Frankie that Winston didn’t matter, that Frankie didn’t need a loser like him, would have been decidedly awkward.

“Maybe a bit, but I don’t think… I don’t think that’s the main of it,” she said and looked up at Miles. “I just… a lot has changed since last year.”

Miles broke eye contact and sank something. It felt like a boulder was lying on his chest. “Because of dad?”

That would almost be worse than if this was about Winston. No, scratch that, it would definitely be worse.

“Because… because of a lot of things,” Frankie said, and she didn’t elaborate further than that.

They spend a few more moments cuddled together in silence before Frankie disentangled herself to leave the room without a word and Miles full of regret and guilt. He'd known he'd failed Hunter. There'd been an awareness of that, somewhere in the back of his head. Frankie, meanwhile... He felt as if he'd almost forgotten about Frankie, which was much worse in a way. He'd no idea what to do about it though. It already seemed too late to do anything really, but he supposed just doing better from now on was all that he _could_ do... 

It took a long while before Miles got back to his writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and he tries. oh my gOD DOES HE TRY. he tries ALL THE TIIIME


	3. Chapter 3

“You keep ditching me, what the hell?” Esme said a minute or two after Miles had entered the school.

“No I don’t,” Miles scoffed and kept walking towards his locker. Esme followed him. “It’s only been a day since we hung out.”

Esme huffed. “It’s not that I can’t go a day or two without hanging out, I mean, _whatever,_ Miles, bend yourself out of shape trying to be what everyone wants you to be, what do I care?”

Miles thought her tone – hell, the fact that they were even having this conversation – suggested that she _did_ care, but he didn’t point it out. He didn’t see the point, honestly.

“I’d just like a message so I don’t end up waiting around for you when you’re not going to show up,” she finished.

“Wait, I didn’t text you?” Miles finally turned around to look at her.

“I just said that,” she said and rolled her eyes, then scoffed and made to leave. Miles grabbed her arm to stop her, and their eyes met as she turned around.  

“I’m sorry,” Miles said, and he meant it, though he did think she was being needlessly dramatic about the whole thing. “I’ll make it up to you.”

 

They ended up skipping all but the first class. The first had been English class, and Miles made sure to put some kind of effort into that, since it’d been the only place he’d found any kind of success all year. The rest of the classes though? He couldn’t care less. Neither could Esme, it seemed… and yet she managed to keep her grades up in most subjects. He’d seen her grades at least a couple of times, and though many of the memories where blurry, he couldn’t remember seeing her get a distinctly _bad_ grade. Lots of mediocre ones, sure. But nothing like his own mess.

His train of thought didn’t get much further than to acknowledge the discrepancy; soon he and Esme where high on pills and all thoughts of grades were forgotten. They were having fun together, making out and making fun – just as they were meant to.

They were lying in a grass field somewhere; Miles didn’t know where, nor how they got there, or why. But that was the beauty of it, he supposed. No why’s. Just laughing together in a grass field with not a worry in the world.

“I still can’t believe that song is so popular,” Esme laughed. “That, _hey, hey, this is not okay..!_ one,” she sing-sang, to Miles’ amusement.

“It’s so _much_ , like really?! You don’t say!” She mad an exaggerated face. “I mean we all _know_ it’s not okay, you don’t have to _spell it out_ for us…”

She looked at him and they laughed.

“She’s my ex, you know,” Miles said after a while.

Esme looked at him skeptically.

“She is! Maya Matlin is my ex!” He laughed. “I was so hung up over her...”

“Over Maya Matlin?” Esme was losing it. “When?” She got out between her laughs.

“…About a year ago?”

And that did it; that finished Esme. She hid her face in his shoulder and laughed and laughed and Miles was laughing too, his laughter enhanced by the contagiousness of her’s, and none of them knew how long they laughed, or by the end of it, really why they were still laughing, but it was _so good_ to laugh, and Miles felt _warm_ like he had at Maya’s, and he didn’t care that it was with the help of pills, all he cared about was that in that moment, he and Esme were _happy_.

 

“I was actually at her house the other day,” Miles said a while after, when they’d stopped laughing.

“Trying to reignite the flame?” Esme asked, wiggling her eyebrows meaningfully, dangerously close to another laughing fit.

Miles laughed too, but shook his head.

“God no,” he said. “No, no, we were just hanging out, Winston and Tristan were there too… it was… nice, actually.”

“Hanging out with _Maya Matlin_ and _School President_ _Tristan Milligan_ was _nice_?” Esme asked with skepticism written all over her face.

“Wait.” She began laughing again. “ _He’s_ your ex _too_. Was it like, just a party with you and all your exes, was that why I wasn’t invited?”

“What?” Miles laughed incredulously. “First of all Zoë wasn’t there, and I never _dated_ Chewy.”

“ _Aww_ , are you sure?” She asked putting her hands on her cheeks. “You even have a cute nickname for him!”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I never date my best friend – my _very straight_ best friend,” he said. “And “Chewey” isn’t cute. It’s embarrassing. I’m teasing him!”

“Teasing him like when you cut my hair?” Esme said, still using the same tone of voice someone might use when looking at a cute animal.

“You _know_ I never did that,” he protested and she just laughed at him. “And – no! You’re making me think weird things about Chewey…!”

And then they were losing it again.

 

“You know, Maya isn’t actually that bad,” Miles said later that evening – night, really.

Esme shrugged, as if she didn’t really understand where Miles was going with this. Miles certainly didn’t know where he was going with it either.

“I mean I believe you, she probably isn’t,” Esme said after a while, having seemingly sobered a bit. “But she’s not like us; she’s one of those perfect kids the rest of us are told we should be like.”

Miles frowned in contemplation; that didn’t seem entirely right.

“She actually had a lot of anxiety issues last year,” he said. He hadn’t really had the best perspective on it last year, but now that Miles knew what it meant to be truly, continuously anxious… what it meant to have a panic attack, and how overwhelming and irrational it all was… well, he understood why Maya had acted the way she did a bit better… and he certainly didn’t hold that against her anymore, if he ever truly had.

Esme shrugged again.

“It’s not the same,” she said while shaking her head and meeting his eyes as to emphasize her point. “I have been seeing shrinks since I was a little kid, I have several diagnoses already and when I’m 18 they’ll probably diagnose me with a personality disorder or two as well, and you… you have an abusive dad and a mom who gaslights you, and honestly you’ll probably end up with at least a few diagnoses yourself whenever someone drags you to a shrink to make you easier to swallow.”

Esme looked away from Miles’ eyes as soon as she stopped talking. He’d been staring at her and he still was; he’d never heard her talk at length about anything so earnestly, with such… _openness_ , too. He felt as if he’d just seen a glimpse of the real Esme.

“Anxiety sucks a lot, but it’s not _scary_ to others the way we are,” Esme continued quietly. She was ripping out grass and refused to meet his eyes.

“People will tell you to just get over anxiety, as if that was possible, but they probably won’t look at you like you’re some kind of monster for it…” Esme trailed off.

She was looking pensive and distinctly uncomfortable; Miles couldn’t recall having ever seen her like this before. None of them said anything for a while. Esme was hugging her knees, still with that odd, pensive look in her eyes that made Miles wonder what she’d been through before she became the confident person he knew. Because she _was_ confident, and carefree, and she managed to have her life together much better than Miles did, and yet… yet he did realize that perhaps she was neither as confident nor as carefree as she presented herself as. She was good at hiding it all, much, much better than he was, to be frank, and yet… he did know they were similar, that just as he laughed when he felt like screaming, so did Esme project confidence in all situations, not just then ones where she was actually feeling confident. Cracks in her façade were a much rarer sight than a view of the gaping holes in his own, though. Which made this all the weirder.

“Why are we talking about Maya Matlin, anyway?” Esme asked, breaking Miles train of thought. She finally looked up at him again. “Are you still into her or something?”

“Nahh…” he said, though he had to admit, he had no idea how he felt about Maya. “She’s dating this other guy, anyway,” he added.

Esme didn’t seem to know what to say to that. She still seemed a bit… off.

“It’s weird though…” Miles continued a few moments later. “She said I could sleep over at her house whenever I want to avoid my dad…”

“I’m sure her boyfriend will like that,” Esme snarked.

“Right?” Miles chuckled. “Like, it’s just a weird thing to offer… especially when her boyfriend lived in that room for several months last year, like does she have some kind of weird need to have random guys her age living with her or something?”

Esme was finally laughing again. Miles felt relieved, though a small voice questioned whether it was right to feel relief at not having to deal with someone’s true self.

“Maybe she’s the one who’s still into you,” Esme said and Mile shook his head.

“No, no, _believe me_ ,” he said. “I fucked that up thoroughly enough that I think we can easily dismiss that interpretation. Nah, I think she just has this need to be some kind of guardian angel or something, like a hero complex.”

Esme began to laugh. “I know people like that,” she said. “Ordinary people with boring little lives who wants to make everyone live up to their standards of behavior.”

Miles snorted. “Sounds like Maya, alright.”

Emse rolled her eyes. “And you said she was alright.”

Maya was more than alright, but he didn’t say that. 

“Well, having somewhere to go when my dad’s around is a relief,” he admitted.

Really, Maya was… kind. Miles didn’t know what to do with kindness, though. He too often misinterpreted it as pity or criticism.

 “You already have somewhere to go,” Esme said and Miles looked up; she was frowning. “You usually hang out with me, remember? Why would you want to miss that to stay with _Maya Matlin_?”

Then again, maybe that was what it was.

“I wouldn’t,” Miles said and straddled Esme. “You’re much more fun.” He started tickling Esme to her thinly veiled delight. She was protesting loudly through her laughs, so he let her go quickly, but as soon as he did she toppled him so she was on top and started tickling him. He didn’t know how long the tickling fight went on for, but it felt like quite a while. Once they finally came to a truce – and one that didn’t end in a sneak attack, at that – they took a few more pills and then… then…

 

They were walking. That was about all Miles was currently comprehending. He remembered feeling good, laughing, and then taking a whole bunch of new pills on top of the ones already in his system. Esme was dancing around a few steps in front of him, laughing and telling him to hurry up. It was dark around them, so they weren’t at the city center. He had no idea _where_ they were though. He told Esme as much.

She walked back towards him and shushed him between her giggling. Once she got close enough, she got on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear as if what she had to say was a big secret.

“We’re on our way to the Song house,” she told him and began quietly giggling again.

“Oh,” Miles mumbled, “Oh, right,” he said, as some vague memories of the conversation leading to that decision popped into his mind. They’d been discussing whether they’d had sex or not already, and while Miles thought they did, Esme argued that they hadn’t – none of them were really entirely sure how far they’d gone, though. And… well. They wanted to be sure.

Esme assured him that her father slept very heavily and wouldn’t wake up when they entered the house, so Miles figured it’d be fine. And it was! Even when he fell on his way up the stair, they heard nothing of Esme’s dad, and soon they were on her bed and making out.

Then a thought occurred to Miles.

“Wait,” he said and moved a bit away from Esme. “Won’t we just run into the same problem?”

Esme stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve already blacked out once tonight,” Miles said. “So if the goal of... this," he gesticulated vaguely, "is to be sure of whether we’ve had sex or not… who’s to say we won’t just forget?”

“Oh…” Esme said. “Well, I rarely black out, but… I see your point.”

Miles moved off of her entirely at that and sat down next to her instead. They just sat there for a bit as an awkward silence filled the room.

“We could just do it anyway,” Esme said with a shrug and Miles nodded thoughtfully; he was rather fond of sex, though he would prefer to _remember_ having it. 

“What about your dad?” He asked after a while.

“He’s a heavy sleeper… I think... I already mentioned...?”

Miles couldn’t remember, honestly, but that wasn’t his point, anyway.

“No, I mean, like, uhm… in the morning.”

“Oh, well…” Esme was beginning to look a bit uncomfortable. “He goes into work really early, so he leaves without waking me.”

Miles nodded again. His and Esme’s eyes met for a bit until Esme looked down on her hands instead.

“Look, Miles…” She began with an uncharacteristic awkwardness. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, I’m sorry if I’ve been pushy or something…”

“Don’t get me wrong… I do want to,” he smiled crookedly as he looked at her and she responded with a similar expression. “I just… I don’t want to wake up _wondering_.”

Esme nodded… but then frowned.

“If we wake up like... well, like this, won’t you anyway?”

Miles thought for a bit. Which really wasn’t an easy task through the daze the pills had put him in.

“You’re setting an alarm right? Call it “we didn’t have sex” or something…”

“Right,” Esme said. “I guess the whole "being clothed" thing will help as well…”

They kissed before they went to sleep, but spend the night sleeping with their backs to each other. Come morning, Miles could only remember half of their last conversation. Enough to feel embarrased and enough to know they hadn't done anything... but little enough to be glad they hadn't. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hope the show does something good with Esme. I need it to flesh her out, to give her backstory and a main plot and let us root for her. I sincerely think she has a lot of potential as a character.  
> Btw this line here: 
> 
>  
> 
> _“He’s your ex too. Was it like, just a party with you and all your exes, was that why I wasn’t invited?”_
> 
>  
> 
> Behind her teasing she’s genuinely trying to work out why he didn’t bring her along; why she was excluded. She succeeds in being subtle about it though, Miles has no clue.


	4. Chapter 4

“Dad’s coming over to have dinner with us tonight,” his mom informed them with a smile. She seemingly expected them all to be happy about it, but Miles sure wasn’t. Frankie didn’t look thrilled either. Miles guessed Hunter looked somewhat pleased. Maybe. He really couldn’t tell with Hunter – not anymore, anyway.

“Are you serious?” Miles said, already feeling distinctly uneasy.

His mom just looked at him with annoyance.

“Miles, you have to try,” she said. “Your siblings are, as is your father.”

“I don’t want him to try,” Miles said and got up and left.

“Miles,” his mother called after him. He kept walking. Then Frankie called his name. He kept walking all the same.

Miles couldn’t believe this; he’d realized that his mother wasn’t going to give up on getting reunited with his dad, though he certainly hadn’t accepted it, but he… he hadn’t expected to be roped into attending dinner with him again, especially not so soon.

Miles had had a hard time accepting that he’d never be good enough for his father, but what had really broken any affection he might have felt was how used he’d felt during the campaign. His dad didn’t love him. He hadn’t been a son to him in a long, long time; he’d been a pawn when he was useful and a disappointment when he wasn’t.

The last lingering familial trust he used to feel had disappeared the day his dad slapped him. Before that, he’d felt that though they might not like each other, or get along, they were family and that meant they could rely upon each other when it really mattered… but even that was gone. Now all he felt for the man was resentment. And his mother wanted to take him back. Not only that, she expected Miles to spend time with him. To _try_. It was ridiculous.

His train of thought was interrupted when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Frankie standing there. “You’re supposed to drive us to school, so don’t take off,” she said. “…that’s all I wanted to say.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Miles bit his lip as he watched Frankie walk away. This wasn’t easy for her either. Frankly, he still didn’t get how she could even begin to forgive their dad, but then he supposed he had been a decent dad to Frankie aside from during the Oomfchat scandal… perhaps there was just less to forgive.

Frankie had probably never felt unsafe about their dad, either, whereas Miles could feel himself tensing up at the mere thought of being near him again. It wasn’t just about the slap, or the shove before that, those were merely the clearest examples, the ones he could bring up to himself or others to underscore how badly his dad had treated Miles, when really… really it wasn’t the worst of it to him. It was just the part that was easiest to understand.

_Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will fuck me up beyond repair, he thought drily._

 

Miles hadn’t actually decided on a cause of action until he practically stumbled upon Maya on his way to his locker. He’d been halfway considering taking off to get high or maybe to visit Esme (and very possibly get high, despite the cold she supposedly had), but when he ran into Maya, he remembered her offer and, well… despite evidence to the contrary, he would like to do the sensible thing every once in a while.

“Shit, sorry,” he said and removed his foot from Maya’s book. She was crunched down on the floor and the contents of her bag were lying all around her. She was frantically shoving it all back in her rucksack and it didn’t seem like she’d heard or even noticed Miles. He crunched down too and started helping her getting her things together, and only when he handed her a book did she notice him.

“Oh!” She said as she let a handful of pencils drop down to the bottom of her bag with one hand while taking hold of the book he’d handed her with the other. “Hi Miles! Someone ran into me while I was looking for something in my bag and I fell over and, well…” She gestured helplessly at her things.

“What an asshole,” Miles said.

“Oh, well, I’m just happy my laptop wasn’t in it, to be honest,” she replied with a small shrug.

Once they finished getting Maya’s things together, they stood up and just stared at each other for a while. The easy nature they had once had with each other was entirely gone, and without something in his system urging him to spit out whatever came to mind, Miles struggled to find the right words. It was an unusual situation for him, usually so full of self-confidence even when his self-esteem was at its lowest…

“I was, ah…” Miles scratched his neck awkwardly.

“Well my, uhm…”

He couldn’t look at her, he felt so embarrassed. Asking others for help was not the Hollingsworth style.

“I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer?”

When Maya didn’t answer immediately, Miles looked up at her and saw momentary confusion, but then:

“Oh, oh right! Yes, of course you can! When?”

“I, uh… Today?” Miles felt terrible; forgetting to be considerate of others because he was too wrapped up in his own shit: Classic Miles Hollingsworth III.

Maya just smiled though. Probably too used to his shit to get upset.

“I’ll have to call my mom, but sure,” she said. “We both have math for our last class, right? Let’s meet up again then.”

Miles was groaning in his head at the thought of actually having to stay at school for all of his classes – he knew Maya well enough to take her meaning – but he smiled and thanked her and walked away feeling a mix of relief, anticipation and a not insignificant amount of surprise that he was doing this.

 

It was awkward. That was all Miles kept thinking, which was probably a self-fulfilling prophecy or whatever, but he was masterful at those and hey, weren’t you supposed to take advantage of your skills?

While it hadn’t been long since they’d last spent time together, it had been ages since they’d done so just the two of them. Hell, Miles was struggling to remember if they’d even done so at any time where they hadn’t been together; if they hadn’t, that might be why it was so awkward. Yeah, they had been friends before getting together, but they hadn’t been close before it, and a certain amount of flirtation had always been present between them. It wasn’t now, though; it couldn’t be.

Miles sometimes thought back at their time together and romanticized it. He’d think of what a good person Maya was and how, when a good person like Maya wanted to be with him, he couldn’t be all bad himself. He’d had his fair share of time feeling annoyed at the mere thought of Maya too, though – and some honest, raw anger right after the Zig incident – and he knew it wouldn’t work. And hell, the fact that Maya was a good person who continued to care about him even after everything he’d done… well that meant that she deserved better than Miles, didn’t it? (Better than Zig, too, Miles thought bitterly, but then he couldn’t stand the guy).

“You’ve redecorated,” Miles said when he couldn’t think of anything else.

They were sitting in Maya’s room, Miles on her chair and Maya on her bed. He’d been to her room many times before and he felt certain it hadn’t looked like this last time. Not exactly like this, anyway. Oh god, he was focusing on her interior design…

“Yeah, a bit,” Maya said. “I like changing it around every once in a while.”

“It’s… nice,” Miles said, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Thanks,” Maya said, and then it seemed she didn’t really know what to say, either.

They were silent for a bit. The awkwardness of the situation was really being underscored.

“Can I ask you something?” Maya finally asked, breaking the silence.

Miles had a feeling he wouldn’t like whatever she was about to ask, but he couldn’t take the silence, so he just said: “Sure.”

Maya hesitated for a moment – oh he was _really_ not going to like this , was he?

“When did all the stuff with your dad begin?” she asked.

Miles sighed. He’d known it would be about his dad.

“It’s a bit hard to pinpoint when it began, it’s not like…” Miles shook his head as he trailed off. “That sort of thing, it happens gradually.”

“Yeah…” Maya said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “That makes sense.”

“I suppose it really started getting bad when I was around 13 or 14…” He said. “We had conflicts before, but for years we just haven’t been on good terms for more than like, a day or two. And it just… kept escalating.”

“Must have…” Maya said as she frowned and made a bit of grimace while keeping her eyes averted. “I was worried about the way he was treating you, back when we hit Dallas’ car, but I didn’t think…”

She shook her head as she finally looked up at him, wordlessly. Her eyes were big and full of kindness and sadness and worry and compassion, and that couldn’t really exist in her eyes without some pity seeping through. Pity always made Miles distinctly uneasy; angry, often. Even now, though, Maya was the only one who could get away with looking at him like that. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but she could get away with it. He wasn’t yelling at her yet, after all.

There was silence between them again; Miles was beginning to fear the whole evening would be like this. At least when they ate dinner, Ms. Matlin would ask him all those questions that other people’s parents usually ask, and normally Miles dreaded such things, but at this rate? At this rate he was relieved just to think it would be less awkward. After they had eaten, he could probably get away with just retiring to the guest room – because that had to be what it was, at this point – and be on his phone till he got exhausted enough to actually sleep.

Right now, though, he felt he needed to be making some kind of effort at socializing with Maya. Man, it’d been forever since he’d had trouble with socialising… He looked around Maya’s room for some ideas as to what they could talk about and his eyes fell on her guitar.

“How’s it going with your music?” He asked her and she instantly lit up with excitement.

“Oh, I actually have a meeting soon!” She told him with a big smile. “I’ll be out of town for it in a few days; it’s all pretty exciting…! You’ve heard _Not Okay_ , right?”

He nodded, relieved to have found a safe topic. She told him all about the meeting, all of the music she had been writing and how much she loved performing it. He got a word in there, too, and they got to the topic of his own interests. His musical ones were neglected at best, but he told her about the writing he’d been doing and – after excessive pleading from Maya – promised that he’d send her some of his finished short stories. The conversation just kept flowing, in a way Miles hadn’t been able to manage since the start of the year, and maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible awkward, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Esme does actually have a cold. Miles is her Favourite Person; she wouldn’t risk him abandoning her by skipping without him. 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! Unfortunately, the wait for chapter 5 might very well be long, too. I am comitted to finishing this story, though. 
> 
> I'm aware this chapter is a bit on the short side. It's for story reasons; I divide the scenes into chapters based on story, not length.


	5. Chapter 5

In hindsight, Miles really should have predicted how Esme would react. Not only was she a  _ bit  _ possessive – the same way Miles was, if he was being honest – she clearly didn’t like Maya in particular. It struck him the moment she confronted him after class, and he felt silly for not realising it earlier.

“So little Miss Perfect is better company than me, after all?” She said.

“What?” Miles replied with an incredulous smile. “Esme, you were sick.”

“Not in the evening, I wasn’t,” she said. “If you’d written me, you’d have known that, but you clearly had better offers…”

She shot a sideways glance down the hall at Maya who was passing by, before looking back at him. She lifted one eyebrow, challenging him to argue with her.

“How do you even know I hung out with Maya last night?” He asked her as he began to walk.

“I saw your oomfs,” she said. “I’m sure  _ everyone’s _ enamored with how  _ cute _ you look together…”

Miles furrowed his brows.

“It’s not like that.”

“Sure it’s not...” Esme said while lifting both her eyebrows

He rolled his eyes and she shrugged.

“Whatever. Suit yourself,” she said and then she walked off.  

Miles couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to go after her. He was pretty sure they’d make up; neither of them really had anyone else, right now. While yes, sure, Miles could go to Maya when he needed to now, and his friendships with Winston and Tristan were tentatively in a better place than they had been… Esme was easier to be around, in a lot of ways. She didn’t judge and she didn’t pity.

This part, of course, was a bit difficult, but he had the option to not deal with it at all, which was rarely an option when someone confronted him. In a few days’ time they’d be skipping and getting high together again, laughing and kissing and banishing their demons again. Miles could handle a few days without her, no problem.

Two days later, however, it turned out there was  _ one _ problem. His dad was coming over later, because of course he was. Of course his mother had chosen exactly the day Miles couldn’t rely on Esme  _ or _ Maya to get him out of the house for this visit. Maya was out of town for her meeting, and Miles wasn’t going to approach Esme till a day or two later, so that left…Winston and Tristan?

Best friend since age 5 who somehow hadn’t become  _ entirely _ fed up with his bullshit yet, or ex who had humiliated him in front of most of the school? It wasn’t a hard choice to make.

“Hey, Winston,” he said when he’d tracked him down.

“Hey,” Winston said a bit tentatively, probably able to tell he’d come to ask for a favor. He knew him well enough for that.

“Want to hang out today? Play some games at your place or something?”

“Uh, sure,” Winston said, still regarding him with some apprehension. “Didn’t realise you were still up for that kind of thing.”

“What, wasting time shooting fake people with my best friend?” Miles said and put an arm over Winston’s shoulders in an act of confidence that didn’t reflect how he was really feeling. “How can I not be up for that?”

“Best friend, huh…” Winston repeated and Miles’ hope sank momentarily at that.

Winston didn’t go deeper into that whole discussion, though he just made one of his usual apathetic faces and said:

“Sure, sounds fun.”

“Great!” Miles said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Sure,” Winston said again, and Miles fled before he had the chance to say anything else.

 

“Dude, you  _ need _ to pick another class,” Winston scoffed. “You’re a disaster as a sniper.”

_ And as a person, really _ , Miles thought.

“Fuck off, I’m doing fine,” he said out loud as he missed the same headshot for the third time.

Winston laughed at him.

“Just change,  _ please _ .”

“Fine,” Miles said with some fake grumbling.

After that, they played in silence for a while, apart from a few comments on the gameplay. Miles could almost feel Winston trying to figure out how to approach him.

“So, you needed to be out of the house today…?” He finally asked. 

“Yeah…. my mom keeps inviting him around,” Miles said, feeling no need to clarify who he was talking about.

“I’m sorry, dude,” Winston said, in that awkward way guys who were torn between expressing sympathy for a friend and keeping up their casual facade that Miles knew all too well. Winston seemed to settle for the former, however: 

“I know I’m hard on you sometimes, but I hope you know I’m here for you, man…” 

The was a short pause were the only speech came from the game they were playing. 

“Honestly, sometimes I think I need you to be hard on me,” Miles admitted. “With all the shit I do, it’s good to have someone calling me on my bullshit. To be honest, I’m just impressed you haven’t given up yet.”

“If I was going to give up on you, I’d have done so a long time ago,” Winston said. “I don’t think we’re getting rid of each other... for better or worse.”

“Sorry for being a jerk,” Miles said. 

Winston made a dismissive noise. 

“I’m used to that,” he said. “You could start listening to me, every once in a while though…” 

Miles chuckled. Hell, if Miles just listened to any of his  _ own  _ rational thoughts every once in a while… well, a lot would be different.

The gameplay suddenly became hectic, and the conversation moved to yelling instructions at each other as they both did their best to, at a minimum, keep their own character alive. They kept gaming, but the conversation never once turned serious again. They both liked it that way, Miles thought. It seemed odd, but a lack of depth was really quite a big part of their friendship. 

They only stopped the game when Winston’s parents came home and wanted the TV. They seemed… pleased to see Miles. Which Miles couldn’t understand, not with how much trouble he’d dragged Winston into over the years. Surely any parents would think him a bit influence? You know, because he was…

If the Chus thought any of that, though, they didn’t let it affect how they treated Miles. Eating dinner with them was… surprisingly pleasant. 

  
  


“How’s Frankie?” Winston suddenly asked. 

They were in his room now. The only light in the room came from the lamp on Winston’s bedside table. It didn’t give a lot of light and the relative darkness might have been what gave Winston the courage to bring up Miles’ sister. For some reason, talking was easier in the dark.

“ _ Now _ you want to know that?” Miles asked.

Winston vaguely started saying something, but he didn’t seem able to spit it out. 

“She’s fine,” Miles said. “Good.” 

His voice sounded fake even to himself. Beside him, Winston sighed and buried his face in a pillow. 

“Okay, yeah… she could be better.” 

Winston lifted his head slowly, and it was hard to tell in the dark, but Miles thought Winston was looking at him. 

“Did… am I…? 

“You’re not the whole reason, Prince Charming. Not even the main one.” 

Winston let out a sigh of relief. 

It was nice, if very weird, to see Winston care about Frankie. Neither of them had brought her up at all since the break up. She - or the break up, rather - had been a great, big, stinking elephant none of them had dared to point out. 

“I’m not… upset anymore,” Winston said. “At all.”

Miles hesitated. 

“That’s… good.”

“I don’t want to get back with her!” He hurriedly said. “What I mean is… there’s no grudge there. I’m fine if she is. Could you... I… I mean, if I run into her while at your house, I don’t want her to…”

Winston sighed. 

“Relax,” Miles said. “There’s no way I’m bringing you back there anytime soon, not with the risk of that fucker being around.”

Winston made an annoyed sound and threw a pillow at him.

“That’s not what I meant, asshole.”

Miles chuckled.

“I know.”

 

It was later in the night. Darker. Even the bedside lamp had been shut off.

As the laws of no homo required - and the rules parents nervously began upholding with people of the same gender when they knew one of them *gasp*! wasn’t straight! - Miles had been given a mattress on the floor to sleep on. He’d been lying in Winston’s bed for a while, though. Winston had been mortified at his mother’s insistence that Miles stay off of his bed, while Miles himself had been relegated to hysterical laughter as soon as she was out of earshot. 

Once Winston’s parents had gone to bed, Miles had climbed onto his bed so he could whisper back and forth secrets with his oldest friend, as they had been doing for as long as Miles could remember. Well, they hadn’t done it for years, of course, but… it still felt familiar. 

“You know, I  _ am  _ sort of curious,” Winston eventually said. “What it’s like to make out with a dude.

“Wanna try?” Miles wiggled his eyebrow, only halfway joking. “I don’t mind.”

“Dude. Weird.” Winston said, but stared at him in what might just be contemplation. Then he shook his head. “Seriously weird!”

Miles just kept laughing. “You’re  _ curious _ ,” he teased and moved a bit closer.

Winston didn’t move away. Instead he looked into Miles’ eyes searchingly, until he rolled his own and said: “Okay, I am, why the hell not,” and then they were kissing, and perhaps they were kissing a bit more than would be necessary just to satisfy Winston’s curiosity. 

When they moved away from each other they were out of breath. Miles was looking at Winston in a whole different light than he’d ever looked at his best friend of more than ten years before. He wondered why he’d never really considered it before. Tristan hadn’t been the first boy he’d been attracted to, Miles had wondered about his sexuality before his relationship with Tristan. Why those thoughts had never led him to Winston, he suddenly couldn’t say.

Winston was looking a bit out of sorts as well. Confused, but not put off, if Miles could judge his face correctly in the dark. They almost moved in to kiss again, but then Winston stopped abruptly.

“No, nope,” he said and sat up. “I won’t do this.”

“Didn’t like it?” Miles asked with a smug smile, but Winston wasn’t smiling.

“You  _ always  _ do this, Miles, and it  _ never _ ends well,” he said. “I won’t let you do it to us, too.”

“I always do what?” Miles said with a tad more defensiveness in his voice than he would have liked there to be. “Kiss people?”

“Yeah,” He said. “You kiss your friends and you get together with them, because for some reason you seem think that’s better than being their friend. Then you break up after some inevitable argument and after that you’re not even their friend anymore.” A quiet moment went by. “ _ Every time _ , Miles, I know you. So no, I won’t let you make this weird.”

There was a tense silence between them as Winston waited for Miles’ reaction.

“I think it’s too late for that,” Miles finally said and Winston chuckled in acknowledgement.

“Well, that’s one thing off your bucket list, right?” Miles remarked once he’d gathered himself.

Winston smiled, and there was no small amount of relief to be found there. Miles… didn’t know how to feel about that. He knew, rationally, that Winston was probably relieved they were still friends; that things wouldn’t be weird, but… he couldn’t help but feel the relief was at not having to deal with Miles. He couldn’t help but feel unwanted, though he was unsure if he even wanted Winston that way, anyway. And… things  _ would _ be weird.

_ Nice going, Miles _ , he thought.  _ Winston’s right. You  _ always  _ do this _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look maybe i sort of kind of ship Miles/Winston a tiny bit but listen it is my god-given right to have bad taste in ships


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for self harming behavior

Miles had been keeping to himself the last few days, which was unusual and a bit unpleasant for him. He wanted Esme to come to him, though, not the other way around, and he felt too awkward about… well, about how awkward he’d made sure to make things with Winston to spend much time with him. He had wondered if perhaps him and Maya could be friends again. Proper friends this time, not just “in-love-but-not-in-a-relationship” friends. 

It was the middle of the day when Miles saw Grace leading an upset Maya down the hall. 

“What’s-?” Miles began.

“Not now, rich kid,” Grace interrupted as she kept leading Maya away. “She just got doxxed.”

“She what?” 

Grace clearly wanted to keep moving, but Maya stopped and looked over her shoulder at Miles. 

“My info was posted online,” she told him with watery eyes but a weirdly calm voice. “My address, my phone number… everything.”

Miles’ jaw dropped. 

“What?” He asked again.

Grace rolled her eyes, and when she started moving again, Maya followed her. Miles wanted to help somehow, but Grace had seemed to have control of things. Maybe he should have invited Maya to stay at his house, as she had let him stay at her’s, but by the time Miles thought of that, Grace and Maya were out of sight. Besides, he quickly realised that such an offer would have been of no help, after all: Maya likely didn’t want to be near Hunter. Sure, she hadn’t heard him call her a bitch, but….

Something hit Miles so hard that he almost lost his breath. 

_ At least he didn’t say it to her face, I guess… _

Tristan’s words echoed in his mind. 

Oh, the dramatic irony, it was as taken out of one of his own short stories.

But could Hunter really have…? Did Hunter have that in him…? 

Miles slipped into a nearby bathroom and leaned heavily down on the first sink. 

Old Hunter didn’t. The Hunter Miles had teased and played with and kept from playing with him and Winston… he couldn’t have done this. The Hunter of the now, though...? The Hunter Miles would meet when he got home...? Did Miles know what that Hunter was capable of…?

Miles splashed water in his face before he left the bathroom. A deep dread in the bottom of his stomach held more answers than any of his conscious thoughts. 

  
  


It felt like Miles had been the very last person to take notice of the harassment Maya was facing. He’d looked at her social media, and all of them were filled with gross and hateful comments, comments that made him want to beat the crap out of whoever had written them. And of himself, for only noticing now. He always had been self-absorbed, but this was absurd. How the fuck had he not known about this?! 

It couldn’t be Hunter. He couldn’t have done this. Sure, he was moody, and he could be nasty, sure, and he had turned that nastiness on Maya before, true, but this? This was way further than Miles could ever imagine his brother going. It couldn’t be Hunter.

And… and yet. It kept eating away at Miles. He couldn’t leave it there, which was how he found himself in Hunter’s room.  

“Hunter,” Miles said, but was ignored. “Hunter.”

When the repetition went ignored too, Miles walked up on Hunter’ side and yanked his headphones off. 

“Hey!” Hunter yelled. “What are you doing?!”

“Talking to you,” Miles said. 

“Get out of my room!” Hunter demanded while he fought to get his headphones back from Miles. 

“We need to talk, Hunter,” Miles said, searching for his brother’s eyes. “Hey, hey, look at me!”

Miles grabbed onto Hunter’s should and attempted to make him meet his eyes

Get off of me!” Hunter screamed and pushed him away with  a lot more force than Miles had been expecting. 

Miles stumbled a few steps back and stared at his brother in horror. He intense anger he found in Hunter’s features told him what he’d been dreading was true from the moment the thought occurred to him. 

“You did do it, didn’t you…” Miles said quietly. 

Hunter didn’t get a chance to do anything but send him a sullen look before Frankie burst into the room. 

“What is going on?” She exclaimed. 

“He’s been…he...” Miles took a steadying breath and a few steps that put his back to Hunter. “He’s been harassing Maya, sending her threats, doxxing her…”

“What?” Frankie said, looking from Miles to Hunter and back again. 

For a moment, none of them said anything. Then all hell broke loose. 

“You’ve been doing what?” Frankie screamed, in an not altogether different tone than Hunter had screamed his protests a few moments ago. 

“She’s the one who shut our club down!” Hunter yelled back. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” Frankie demanded. 

“Okay, we need to calm down..:!” Miles attempted, but his siblings were screaming at each other now, their words mostly unintelligible due to how they merged together. 

Miles was yelling too in an attempt to make them  _ stop _ yelling, which, predictably, mostly just merged together with the rest of the yelling and certainly didn’t do any good. 

Miles didn’t know whether to thank god their mother wasn’t home or to wish she had been. She could complicate things even further, but she could also have gotten the twins to shut up -  a feat he had never been capable of performing. 

“You’re sick,” Frankie said when they’d all worn their shouting voices out. “I’ve seen some of those threats and you’re fucking sick, Hunter.”

Both of Miles’ siblings looked wrecked. Frankie was crying a bit, just shaking her head repeatedly as she looked at her brother. Hunter was beginning to shake, his hands clenched firmly at his sides. When he lunged, Miles was grabbed by fear that he would hit Frankie, but Hunter slammed his fist into the wall. And then he did it again. And again, and again, and again. Over and over till he started doing the same with his forehead. He was screaming again, but this time it wasn’t words, it was broken and not quite crying but as heart wrenching. 

It took a moment for Miles to snap out of his shock, but then he threw himself at Hunter and tried to drag him away from the wall. He was completely out of it, he wildly threw himself around in Miles’ grasp with seemingly no regard for his own well-being. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…” Miles heard himself saying, the same way he could vaguely hear Frankie crying in the background. “You’re alright, you’re safe, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

It wasn’t okay, of course. Nothing about this situation was. Not the harassment, not the screaming, not the self harm. But Miles didn’t know what else to do. He just wasn’t equipped to deal with this. 

“Call mom,” Miles told Frankie when Hunter had calmed down enough to stop fighting against him. He was just crying now. Miles’ couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his brother cry, but he knew it hadn’t sounded this broken and desperate then. 

  
  


It was saturday. This saturday was dissimilar to any saturdays Miles had had recently, in that he had been at home for it up till now and wasn’t planning on going anywhere. After getting home from the hospital, his mom had suggested through implication that he stay around, but even if she hadn’t, Miles still would have. He didn’t know what he could do for Hunter, but being around seemed superior to running away from his problems like he usually did. 

So here he was, getting his ass beat at Risk. He’d usually beat both of the twins at it when they were younger, but the few times they’d played in the last couple of years, Hunter had always won. 

“Okay, I give up, I’m not throwing a single die more,” Frankie said and went out towards the kitchen. 

“Looks like you won,” Miles said and threw a forced smile at Hunter who didn’t return the gesture. 

None of them had really smiled much the last few days. Real smiles were a somewhat rare commodity in their home, anyway, but ever since their mom had brought Hunter home from the hospital, bandages on his hands and a referral to a psychiatrist in her bag, none of them had felt much like smiling. 

Their mom had left Hunter with Miles, sending him a significant look before doing so that tended to mean “don’t fuck this up” or so Miles liked to think of it, before disappearing into her office for a long phone call with the principal.

Miles didn’t know what had been said during that phone call and he had even less of an idea how to feel about Hunter, whether to feel angry and disgusted at what he had put Maya through or sad, just endlessly sad, that his brother was feeling this way. 

In a way, Frankie had been right, though how she meant it hadn’t been. Hunter was ill, just like Miles was. Well, not  _ just like _ , but there had been something oddly recognisable about Hunter’s breakdown. Miles had imagined himself screaming and kicking and hitting his head against the wall enough time for Hunter’s actions to feel like a mirror image. 

What Miles did know, however, was that Maya’s main harasser was gone now and the doxxing taken down. It had been a bandwagon and Miles was sure others had been on it and their harassment wouldn’t stop just because Hunter’s did, but… this did matter. It had to. 

“Do you ever wonder why we’re all like this?” Frankie asked when she walked in. 

“Like what?” Miles asked. 

Hunter didn’t say anything. He’d been saying even less than usual since the hospital. 

“Messed up,” she simply said. 

Miles smiled his sardonic smile. 

“Why, Frankie, you must know that being messed up is a proud Hollingsworth tradition,” he said. “I’m sure it’s somewhere on the crest.” 

“Yeah, dad must have been lying about the motto all these years,” Frankie snarked.

“You can always ask him tonight,” their mother said as she entered the room. 

Frankie shut a look at Miles, which Miles barely registered. He was too busy feeling his chest tighten and his stomach dropping. 

“What?” he croaked. 

“He’s coming for dinner tonight, I thought I mentioned,” she said. 

“You didn’t,” Miles just said and got up from the couch. 

“Where are you going?” his mom demanded. 

“Out,” he just said. 

“Miles!”

“When are you going to get that when he’s here, I’m not going to be?!” Miles shouted over his shoulder. “You make your choices, I make mine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry updating is going so slowly. I'm committed to finishing this story, but I can't say how long it'll take to do so.


	7. Chapter 7

This was a bad idea. No way around it, it just was. Miles had made no shortage of decisions based on bad ideas, so his awareness of this fact didn’t act as any kind of detergent, but as he pressed down the doorbell, he did feel terribly uneasy.

The house before him was familiar, but somehow less so than he felt it ought to be. He and Tristan had never spent much time here, he supposed. More room at Miles’. It made sense. Still, his relative unfamiliarity  didn’t help him feel any better.

“Miles…?” Tristan said as he opened the door, his brows drawn together.

“Hey,” Miles said. “Can I come in?”

Tristan regarded him for a bit.

“I suppose so…”

No sooner than Tristan had said it than Miles was through the door.

“What’s going on?” Tristan asked.

Miles didn’t look at him as he answered. It was easier not to.

“My dad… he’s at our house.”

“Right…” Tristan said in a tone indicating a wish for elaboration, but Miles stayed quiet. He didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t know how to, and he certainly couldn’t get himself to bring up whether he could stay over yet. It seemed like way too much to ask for.

Honestly, coming here at all seemed too much to ask of Tristan. They weren’t truly at odds with each other any more, Miles didn’t think, but the memory of when they had been was still too close. Or at least that’s how Miles felt. Maybe Tristan still resented him. Or maybe he was over it ( _...yeah, fat chance of that_ ).

After a silence that must have lasted almost a minute, Tristan spoke:

“Right, so I need to work on my English assignment, but you’re welcome to sit around while I do that, I guess.

“Thanks, yeah, that’s, uh, that’s fine… “ Miles rambled.

 

For the first 15 minutes being in Tristan’s room again was not just uncomfortable for Miles, it felt downright bizarre. He hadn’t been here before or after they were together, and the memories of their relationship hang heavily in the room. Making out on the bed, working together at the desk, occasionally play-fighting on the floor… It was odd, how a place he hadn’t been enough times to feel truly familiar with managed to be so full of memories.

Still, he got over it after those first 15 minutes of feeling on edge. He’d been scrolling through hastygram in an effort to make himself relax, and after a while the scrolling turned mindless and Miles relaxed. He even opened up his writing app and began looking through one of his unfinished short stories, hoping to use the time he was stuck here on figuring out the ending. He’d been rereading what he’d already written when Tristan broke the silence:

“So you’re actually bisexual?”

Miles looked up to see that Tristan hadn’t.

“What, do I need to go find a poster from my campaign?” he said, joking though there was nothing to joke about.

Tristan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Nevermind,” he mumbled and went back to his document.

“Fine, okay,” Miles said and put down his phone with an exaggerated motion. “Yeah, I probably am, what of it?”

A wave of… something - something _bad, unpleasant, wrong_ \- went through him as he admitted it, but he tried not to let on.

“”Probably”?” Tristan repeated. “So you’re not sure?”

Was he? He didn’t want to be. It was easier, avoiding it. Not thinking about it, letting others do that for him, letting them think whatever was convenient for them, so long as they left him in peace… and yet, it hurt. Because he did know. Tristan’s words during the campaign would not have hurt as badly if he hadn’t known, on some level, that this was who he is.

“I am… I am, I just…”

Miles sighed in frustration, rubbing at his face as if that’d grant him a way out of this.

“Look, to be real with you, admitting it to myself isn’t easy, so when I’m vague, that’s probably why.”

Tristan was quiet for a while, in a way Miles couldn’t read. Sometimes he wondered how well he really had known Tristan. Well enough to hurt him badly, of course, he knew how to narrow in on his insecurities, his loneliness and low self esteem, and to use it to push him away, but… he hadn’t seen Tristan get like this before. They hadn’t been serious with each other often, most of their relationship had revolved around kissing and getting into fights. Contemplation hadn’t really been a big part of it.

“Were you embarrassed to be with me?” Tristan asked.

“Tristan…” Miles groaned.

“No, I don’t mean…” Tristan stopped to gather his thoughts. “This isn’t about me, I’m asking if you felt embarrassed to be with a boy.”

Tristan was meeting Miles’ eyes head-on as he spoke and Miles felt sure that the small sweep of panic that the small wave of panic that went through him must be quite visible to Tristan.

“Because you never acted like you were,” Tristan continued. “You never seemed to care when people gave us funny looks or yelled after us or whatever…”

Whenever such things had happened, Miles had laughed it off, just like he he did with everything else. Tristan had seems indignant yet resigned, so clearly used to it in a way that Miles was not. Miles had always felt that small wave of panic go through him - not just when people were bothering them, but any time his identity was brought up - but would pretend to be untouched by it. Scratch writing, maybe Miles should be an actor; his mask was firmly secured most of the time.

“So you won't be hurt if I say I were?” Miles said and broke eye contact. “Embarrased, that is.”

Tristan didn’t answer him. He frowned in thought, saved his document and then left his chair to sit down next to Miles.

“Of course I’m still hurt,” Tristan said and Miles braced for impact, prepared himself to retaliate or flee at a moment's notice, “but… I get it. I used to be embarrassed about being gay.”

“I just… I just _can not_ imagine that,” Miles said, a wry smile slowly finding it’s way onto his features as he dare to look up at Tristan again.

“Shut up,” Tristan said and laughed. “You’re the one who got real.”

Miles laughed too.

“Guilty as charged.

 

Miles had been dreading Dinner with the Milligans since Tristan had said he could stay, expecting it to become an exceedingly awkward affair, but it turned out only Tristan’s dad would be home for dinner. He was a quiet man and didn’t ask Miles any of the many questions Miles was sure Mrs. Milligan would have asked him. The most awkward thing that happened was how skeptically Mr. Milligan looked at the both of them when Tristan told him they weren’t back together and Miles could live with that. Mr. Milligan didn’t pry and that was the main of it. All he did was ask them to help clear the table.

When they got back to Tristan’s room, Tristan had gone back to his assignment while Miles had gotten a book from his bag and started reading. It was a book Mr. Mitchell had insisted he read - well, actually it was a short story collection containing the short story Mr. Mitchell had recommended him, but same difference. His thoughts were too preoccupied for _The Judgement_ by Franz Kafka to really hold his attention, though.

“You know,” Miles said after a while, “back on that Paris trip, when you thought me and Winston were being homophobic…I think what  you were really picking up on was me being curious about the fact that you were okay with acting gay.”

“Oh, so I “act gay” now?” came the automatic, but ultimately biteless, response.

Miles sent him a wry smile and Tristan rolled his eyes in defeat.

“Whatever,” he said. “At least I’ve never gotten in fights to prove I’m the big man.”

Miles smile diminished a bit at that. His conflict with Zig was not something he liked to dwell on - or even remember happened, at all. 

“Do you remember,” he began, “back when we’ve just met and I told you about the dancing classes my dad made me quit?”

“Yeah,” Tristain said with a softness that had to mean he’d already figured out what Miles was going to say.

“I think he suspected - or feared, probably, let’s be real…” he sent Tristan a hollow smile before going on: “I tried to be who he wanted me to be, and… dating a guy was never going to be part of that.”

Tristan was frowning and again Miles was hit by how rarely they’d been serious with each other in their relationship, how rarely they’d taken the time to talk with each other about deeper things, things that mattered… That was probably Miles fault, though. Even while dating Tristan, he’d preferred to keep that part of himself, the part of him that let him love Tristan, tightly locked up and ignored.

“He seemed super chill about it when were dating, though.”

Miles laughed way too hard at that.

“Yeah, well, he’s _polite_ ,” he finally said.

Tristan chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“God, your family are _such_ WASPs.”

“Now you’re getting it!”

They riffed off of that for a bit, Miles telling stories about the ridiculous actions of his relatives and their WASP friends, before going on to simply make fun of every single way in which Miles was privileged. Tristan joined him on the bed soon enough, the almost-done-I-think-could-you-read-it-through? assignment forgotten for a while as they forgot their worries and their arguments and simply… had fun.

It felt good to laugh with Tristan again, to interact with him without venom and without worrying about every little thing he was doing wrong or about anyone or anything else than themselves and the moment they were sharing. Being close to him like this again, Miles was reminded of what a pretty boy he was and that reckless, hedonistic part of himself that never thought, never considered and never felt ashamed urged him to just close the distance between their mouths and seek pleasure where he’d found it before and knew he could find it again. He almost plunged on ahead, but then he found Winston’s words from almost a week before playing on repeat in his head:

_“You kiss your friends and you get together with them, because for some reason you seem think that’s better than being their friend. Then you break up after some inevitable argument and after that you’re not even their friend anymore.”_

Miles sighed internally. Why did Winston have to be right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man finally the Tristan chapter is done. this was a tough one - writing Tristan being neither angry nor in love with Miles is difficult, bc in canon he always seems to be complete either of the two. well, not in their last season, i suppose, but they're different people at that point.


	8. Chapter 8

Life went on much the same as it had, but Miles found himself relying less and less on the pills. He’d begun having his first withdrawal symptoms - well, since the panic attack - a few days ago and it had scared him just how reliant he had become upon them. He tried to do less. Sometimes. Other times, he didn’t care. Or Esme made an argument convincing enough to make him not care.

Speaking of Esme, she’d come back into Miles’ life with full force, making no mention of her absence or the conflict that had caused it. She just scooted up to him one day, made a joke about his schoolwork and carried on as if nothing had happened.

While Esme was once again the one he hung out with most, Miles had other people around now, too. He would never have admitted so just a few weeks ago, but having people around he could turn to made all the difference in the world. Tristan had warmed up to him a lot since he’d stayed over and with him Zoë, too. Zoë was more guarded distant than Miles had ever known her to be, but then Tristan had implied that Something was Going On. Miles thought he might be able to guess what it was, based on the time they’d spent together last summer.

“I still need a few more people to help out with the Snow Ball if it’s going to be ready in time,” Tristan said, looking furiously through to-do lists and budget plans on his laptop, Winston at his side reading along with him.

“Please tell me you’ll help out, Zo,” he said, looking up from the screen for a moment to send her a look.

Zoë was too busy looking at her phone to take any notice of Tristan - or maybe she was just ignoring him.

“I don’t think she heard you,” Miles said, “but I’ll help out, if you want.”

Tristan scoffed and Winston chuckled.

“We may be on speaking terms again, mister, but I need someone reliable,” Tristan said. “I know you’re still sneaking pills.”

Miles was about to protest when Winston jumped in.

“Come on, I’ll keep an eye on him,” he said. “I’ve been doing so since we were little, why stop now?”

Tristan regarded them for a moment. Miles smiled in what he thought was a winning manner. Zoë was still absorbed by her phone.

“Fine,” Tristan said. “But only because I really need people.”

Winston crawled away from Tristan’s computer and lunged forward to meet Miles’ hand in a high five. They then proceeded to perform a complicated series of handshakes and fistbumps they’d made up in sixth grade, all while cheering each other on.  

“I’m already regretting this…” Tristan sighed.

 

 

Miles was still with Tristan, Winston and Zoë when Esme found them. She took one look at the group, then decided to sit down in Miles’ lap. Both Tristand and - finally - Zoë look up from their screens. Tristan merely took the time to roll his eyes before turning back to it, but Zoë kept her eyes on them.

“Hi there,” Miles said with a smile.

“Hi yourself,” Esme said, matching his expression.

“Guys, have you met Esme?” Miles asked.

Tristan rolled his eyes again and Miles thought he heard Winston mumble “unfortunately” but Zoë at least seemed interested.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Zoë Rivas.”

“Esme Song,” Esme said. “I’ve seen you around, Zoë. Can’t fathom what a pretty girl like you is doing hanging out with these losers.”

“Well, we take what we can get, don’t we?” Zoë said. “Little boy blue here can’t have been your first choice.”

That shocked a laugh out of Miles. Either these two were going to get on like a house on fire or they’d both get burnt.

Esme smiled slowly.

“Didn’t you two use to date?” she asked.

Zoë seemed to shut down at that.

“That was a long time ago,” she said and went back to her phone.

Esme began inquiring about what Miles had been doing, declared the Snow Ball boring and - with a very suggestively placed hand - suggested that they go do something more interesting.

Just the presence of Esme reminded Miles of the vague withdrawal symptoms he’d been feeling the last half hour and with a look around at the group - Tristan and Winston working on the Snow Ball, Zoë completely withdrawn again - he made his decision.

“See you around, kids,” he said as he got up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

He winked at them, though he didn’t think any of them noticed, then laid an arm over Esme’s shoulder and followed her out of the school.

 

 

It had been a few hours since they left the school, or so Miles thought. They were at Esme’s house - her dad was working late again, apparently - and as the effect of the pills they’d taken were slowly wearing off, they lay side by side on Esme’s bed.

Usually Esme liked to be a bit hard on Miles, in that teasing way of her’s where her demeanor seemed to ask if you were up to whatever challenge she was about to set you. She was like a self-satisfied princess from one of those stories where a suitor had to do three tasks for her favor, with the exception that with Esme, you never knew how many tasks you might be set. She was different today, though. Softer.

When Miles had declined more pills after the first batch they took, she’d given him a funny look, but not pressed the issue like she normally would, and when he mentioned that he’d be helping out with the Snow Ball, she had been clearly bemused, but not mocking. Now she was lying against him, almost asleep, and Miles thought this might be the time to get real with her.

“Esme?” Miles said.

Esme hummed in response.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” Miles asked, his stomach knotting itself together in response to the idea. “I mean, is this all that life is?”

Esme chuckled, then rolled over on her side to look at him.

“What, having fun?” she said. “Well, sorry to disappoint, sweet cheeks, but I don’t think life is _all_ fun and games.”

“I’m being serious,” Miles said.

“And I’m not,” Esme simply replied.

Miles wanted to argue. Ever since their small falling out, since his visits to Winston and Tristan, since seeing his brother dragged off to a psychiatrist, perhaps even since Maya had opened the door to it, he’d been wondering if perhaps there was another path, another way to do this. But… but not if this was how it was always going to be. He needed the pills if this was what life was going to be like, keep being like. He couldn’t endure forever, he didn’t want to, he-

Miles’ train of thought was interrupted by Esme kissing him.

“If you stop being a square, I’ll suck you off,” she said against his lips.

Still feeling conflicted, but ultimately too much of a hedonist to say no, Miles kissed Esme and sat up.

“So long as you let me return the favor,” he said as he began unbuckling his pants.

  
  


After Miles and Esme were done having what fun they could at Esme’s house, they'd taken a few pills and gone out to find their fun elsewhere. The coming of winter had made that a more difficult endeavor than it had been earlier in the semester, but Esme + Miles + Pills = Fun, always, so while it eventually got so cold they parted ways for warmer pastures, Miles was in high spirits as he made his way home. He couldn’t stop laughing, in fact. A smile on Miles’ face could mean many things and very far from all of them were good things, but right now he was spluttering with laughter out of a silly, misplaced happiness brought on by intoxication. He felt dazed and when he got to the door, it took him several minutes to figure out how to get his key in the keyhole.

“Just put it in,” he mumbled and laughed with the glee of a 12 year old.

When he finally got the door open, he only walked to steps before stumbling to the ground. In some distant corner of his mind, he hoped he hadn’t woken anyone up with the noise, but the coast seemed clear and after wrestling his coat off he stumbled on towards the kitchen.

It seemed a good idea to get some water down before collapsing, but getting ahold of a glass proved somewhat difficult. When he finally found the right cabinet and got his fingers on one, it slipped through them and landed on the ground with a loud clash. Miles swore under his breath as he looked down at the few pieces he could make out in the darkness.

Instead of trying his hands at another glass, Miles lunged forward in a motion much swifter than he’d meant for it to be. He'd meant to put his head under the tap, but only succeeded after first smashing his head into it. He got the water turned on and started drinking, but only a couple of gulps in, he was dragged away from the sink with a watery yelp.

“What are you doing?!” a familiar voice demanded.

Miles went rigid. He suddenly felt much soberer.

“I _was_ drinking tap water,” he said.

His dad's grip on his arm had gotten tighter as he talked and when Miles tried to shake it of, the elder Miles wouldn't let go.

“Don't be so insolent, not when you're causing your mom such grief. I mean what is the meaning of this? Getting home in the middle of the night, clearly intoxicated, you've no regard for anyone but yourself…!”

Miles laughed through his terror.

“Yeah, well, take a look in the mirror.”

His dad shook him.

“Do you think this is funny?!” he demanded.

Miles smiled his sardonic smile, the one he knew his father couldn’t stand.

“A bit,” he said.

“You think worrying your mother with your nonsense when she already has Hunter to worry about is funny? Jeopardising everything our family stands for is funny to you?”

Miles felt himself losing his temper before the words made it through his lips.

“And what does our family stand for?!” He demanded, his voice rising with every word. “Loyalty and strength, like the crest says?! Hah! You’ve never been loyal a day in your life! Not to me, not to the twins - certainly not to mom!”

“And now you want to wake your mother up?” his dad hissed. “You’ve set such a bad example for your brother that he ends up in the hospital, and now you won’t even let your mother rest! Are these the actions of a good son? Or even a decent one? You need to do better, Miles.”

“And you're think you're such a good example?!” Miles replied venomously. “A small time populist politician who want the appearance of a perfect life, who had the perfect wife, the perfect house, the perfect cars, but just can’t accept that his kids can’t be be perfect! I may be useless, but at least I don't use people, I don’t manipulate them, I don't ab-”

Miles didn't get the chance to finish the sentence, because that was when his dad's fist connected with his nose.

In his shock and intoxication, Miles lacked the ability to withstand the slap, so the next thing he knew, he found himself on the floor. Panic was shooting through him, but for a moment, Miles did nothing. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t move and he barely heard the apology his father was rattling of. Everything seemed so very far away...

Then the moment passed.

Miles took a big, gasping breath, as if coming up for air. Then another. And another. Then he jumped to his feet and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, out of the house, out of the driveway, away from their street, running noway in particular, just away, away, as far away as he could possibly get from his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference, we're at s1 ep9 now, time line-wise
> 
> as always, sorry for slow updates, c'est la vie, but I don't think the next one should take too long. I've had some of it down since basically the beginning.


End file.
